


flying

by starr_light



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Airplanes, Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_light/pseuds/starr_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex & George's first plane ride together. Alex is having a bit of a crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flying

**Author's Note:**

> this is completely self-indulgent fluff that resulted from me thinking "george washington would totally be the type of person to buy wifi on planes" one night. oops. also haven't written fic in 2+ years. oops again.
> 
> disclaimer that i have never flown first class (or bought wifi on a plane) in my life, so i apologize for any inaccuracies.

They’re lined up at the gate. _1:13 PM_ , his boarding pass reads. _First class._ Alex has never ridden first class in his life. He cringes inwardly at the thought. Alexander Hamilton riding first class. What kind of person has he become?  
  
The flight attendant looks at them expectantly. George steps forward. _Beep_ – she scans his pass. “Thanks,” he says, making eye contact, polite as always. He’s used to this airplane business. Then Alex steps forward. _Beep_ – again. He glances up at George, who has decided to hover at his side, and gives him an _Okay then!_ smile. _So we’re doing this._  
  
Alex has never really liked flying. It makes him a little anxious. How is it possible, that a huge metal machine can float in the air for so long? Alex never took physics in high school, and certainly never in college. He’s not really a huge fan of self-induced torture. So he doesn’t know why. And he’s not really sure that he wants to know, either.  
  
They walk side by side down to the plane, shoulders brushing. Human contact – it’s nice. Then they line up, single file, at the entrance. George goes first. Alex stares at his back, covered in expensive fancy navy blue suit material. George’s back – it’s nice, too. It’s broad and looks more than decent in tailored suits, looks more than decent in anything, really. _Or nothing_ , Alex’s brain helpfully supplies.  
  
George turns around, eyes warm and a bit concerned, as if he can sense Alex’s nerves - the way his mind is jumping from random topic to random topic and latching onto whatever distraction it can find. Alex shrugs back at him. He’s alright. He’s done this before. He can manage.  
  
5B. That’s his seat number, the closest he’s ever been to the front of a plane. He’s half nerves, a quarter disgust (Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Sitting in the 5th rows of airplanes?), and a quarter sleep-deprivation as he sits down – always an interesting mix. _Wow, legroom_ , he notices. He stretches out his legs. He leans his chair back, as far as it can go, just to test it out. He reluctantly lets some disgust melt away. He’s one-eighth comfort now. He can’t believe he’s calculating fractions. But planes aren’t so bad, he thinks, when you’re in first class.  
  
Alex shakes his head, tries to clear it and stay sensible. If first class ends up the solution to his complicated relationship with planes, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. Besides, it’s only a bit of legroom, nothing special. He’s always flown economy class, when taking a train or something else isn’t feasible, and it’s been fine, perfectly fine—  
  
“You alright?” George asks. Their arms are touching on the armrest between them.  
  
“I’ve never been in first class,” Alex says, ignoring the question.  
  
George laughs. “Well, it’s not bad. They have wifi here too, you know.”  
  
Alex rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve never been on a plane before—“  
  
“I know.”  
  
“And the wifi is so useless! So slow. So goddamn expensive.”  
  
George is silent. And then – “I always buy it,” George says conversationally. “It’s convenient.”  
  
“Pretentious asshole,” Alex mutters.  
  
George frowns.  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” Alex says quickly. “You’re not—you’re not a pretentious asshole. I’m sorry. Airplane nerves? Can we just blame it on that?”  
  
“You're fine, Alex.” George looks at him affectionately. “Don’t worry about it. But I’m still getting wifi. You’re more than welcome to use it,” he adds.  
  
Alex hesitates.  
  
“And it’s faster now, too. You can even stream Netflix with it.”  
  
Trying new things – Alex should work on that, right? He could definitely be better at simply accepting whatever George does for him (It’s a love language; he saw it on the Internet. Gift-giving?), like upgrading his plane ticket to first class. First class! He still can’t get his mind around it. (“So we can sit together,” George had said, Alex leaning into him on their couch at home, their legs propped up and intertwined on the coffee table. Alex had been so tired that he agreed. Ugh. Love coupled with exhaustion is never a good thing.)  
  
“Alright. Thank you,” Alex finally says. He smiles up at George, a truce, and laces their fingers together. He closes his eyes, hearing flight attendants moving around, talking to passengers, and overhead compartments clicking shut. He drifts off.  
  
***  
  
There is air. Blowing directly on his face. And his hair. It tickles. _Damn it_ , he thinks sleepily. He lost his hair tie in the taxi on the way to the airport.  
  
He cracks one eye open, tries to take in as much of his surroundings as he possibly can without opening the other – George, on his left, typing on his laptop, earbuds in his ears. The little air conditioning nozzle, above him. He reaches up to try to screw it shut. He misses by about five inches, his hand hanging limply in the air for a few seconds before he gives up and lets it drop back down to his lap, a dead weight.  
  
He looks back to his left, out the window and sees clouds. Lots of blue and lots of fluffy white. So he slept through take-off. _That’s good_ , he thinks. The most nerve-wracking part of the flight, at least for him, is over. _Now we just need to make sure this 400-ton container stays in the sky for a few more hours._ Alex scrunches his face up. What even _is_ physics?  
  
Then George reaches up, switches the air off for him. His flyaways stop, well, flying away. (Alex is no good with words when he’s still half-asleep.) He manages to open both eyes, though, and turns to face George as he’s settling back into his seat.  
  
“Thanks,” Alex says. “What are you listening to?”  
  
George stares at him. “The Beatles. They’re on shuffle.”  
  
“You’re so old, George.”  
  
“You want one?” he asks, unfazed, holding out a white earbud.  
  
“Maybe later.”  
  
“You slept okay?”  
  
“It was fine. Pretty comfortable, actually. Thanks for the first class.” Alex smirks at him. “This legroom is _unbelievable_ , man. I don’t even _know_ how I managed on planes before this.”  
  
“I can tell when you’re making fun, Alex,” George responds, a small smile tugging at his lips.  
  
Alex snuggles up closer to George, rests his head on his shoulder and looks up at him. “No, really. Thank you. It’s nice here. The seat upgrade is great.”  
  
George leans down, places a kiss in his hair. “You’re welcome.”  
  
They stay in the moment for a while, not talking. Just feeling.  
  
“Oh, yeah—“ George says, suddenly. “I got you wifi. Here, type in this password.”  
  
***  
  
And so it goes. Alex alternates between Netflix and Excel. Netflix, Excel. Netflix, Excel. Some Internet browsing. For business purposes only, of course. Then more Netflix. And more Netflix.  
  
“Airplane wifi sucks,” he informs George, who just seems amused. “I keep on watching Netflix. I was supposed to _be productive_.”  
  
“You’re plenty productive—“  
  
“Shh, George. I’m kind of having a crisis. I’ve never been in first class before, remember? I hate myself for liking it.”  
  
“Wifi isn’t even—“  
  
“Shh. Shh. Let me complain in peace.”  
  
George chuckles. That sound – it’s nice. All this – it’s nice. Two seats a row instead of three. Being comfortable enough on an airplane to fall asleep during take-off. This is probably the best flight he’s ever had. Is it because of first class? Is it because of wifi? He doesn’t want to think about that. But he could get used to this.  
  
Alex glances over at George on his laptop, with his earbuds in, head slightly bobbing to the rhythm of whatever he’s listening to. What was it again? The Beatles? _Oh god_ , Alex half-panics. _This is the type of guy I’ve fallen in love with._  
  
Yes. He could get used to this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *whispers* while we're on the topic of the beatles, "in my life" is such a great george-pov, george/alex song. in my opinion.
> 
> thanks for reading! i'm on [tumblr](http://lennon-tea.tumblr.com) too if you're interested in that.


End file.
